


A Heart by Numbers

by monchy



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-29
Updated: 2012-05-29
Packaged: 2017-11-06 05:45:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/415405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monchy/pseuds/monchy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Quinlan knows his numbers, at least the important ones.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Heart by Numbers

Padawan Anakin Skywalker sat in front of Master Quinlan Vos, and pouted. The library was pretty much empty, but Anakin hated sitting alone in those old chairs, while Madame Nu kept a careful eye on him. Really, that one time he accidentally erased a few archives, and the woman just didn’t seem to forget. He sighed.

Quinlan looked up from his datapad, and gave him a sympathetic smile. Anakin kept pouting.

“Were you punished, too?” asked Anakin, before the stupidity of the idea of punishing a master came to mind.

Quinlan laughed softly, which earned him a glare from Madame Nu, and leaned forward. “Maybe just a little bit,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth. “What did you do?”

Anakin shrugged, and then rested his head between his hands. “Well, nothing really. I mean, the business with master Windu’s speeder wasn’t really that bad.”

“So that was you!” Quinlan pointed at him, covering then his mouth with both hands to avoid a fit of laughter. “Very professional, kid; but don’t tell Obi I said that, he says I’m a bad influence on you.”

Anakin smiled a little, cocking his head to the side. “Why are you here, then, master Vos? You don’t usually spend much time in the library.”

“Well, since I’m going to be staying in the Temple for a while—”Quinlan pointed at his leg, where he had been severely injured in his last mission “—the big chiefs thought I should teach some classes.” Anakin arched an eyebrow, curios. “History. The thing is, I don’t really remember all those things I’m supposed to teach, so I’m studying a little.”

Anakin scoffed. “What’s the point? I hate history, with all its numbers and dates. It’s useless.”

“But those numbers were important to some people, don’t you think?”

“I guess… but you don’t know them either, do you?”

“I have forgotten a few, yes, but I know my numbers, kid.” Quinlan stretched his arm a little, and ruffled Anakin’s spiky hair. “I know the important ones.”  
   
***

_21 are the number of years he had when he fell in love with Mace._  
   
It was so silly, so sudden, that Quinlan still has a hard time believing it. There he was, in the Temple Gardens, sitting on the grass, when he saw him. It was he, master Windu, the baddas bastard who insisted on making his life miserable. He was looking up at the sky, covering his eyes with his left hand, to protect them from the blinding sun. Suddenly, his eyes shifted to his side, and Mace spotted him, and smiled. It was a little smile, confident and yet, shy, but it was real, and it was just for him. That was all it took, then again, who needed anything else?  
   
-o-  
   
 _7 are the number of seconds Mace’s hand touched his cheek the day he got knighted._  
   
The touch had started on his shoulder, and it had been meant as a congratulatory pat, but Mace’s hand had drifted, and had lingered on Quinlan’s cheek softly, until Quinlan had pushed his luck by leaning into the touch. It would take him another two years before Mace touched his cheek again.  
   
-o-  
   
 _68 are the number of times he had been lectured by the Council._  
   
And if anyone asked him, only 8 of them had been called for.  
   
-o-  
   
 _259 are the number of tears he shed when Obi-Wan broke his heart._  
   
Obi-Wan Kenobi was, without a doubt, the most interesting person he had ever met. There was something in him that made him unique. He was a warrior, and yet he was not; he was a diplomat, and yet he was not. It was in the way everything seemed to combine in him, creating this smiling, kind, and adorable mix of ever-changing eyes. It had been his eyes; or at least that was how it had started.

When they had met, Obi-Wan hadn’t liked him. At all. Which, of course, Quinlan had considered a personal challenge. Between jokes, silly chattering and soft smiles, Obi-Wan had started considering him a friend, and Quinlan had fallen in love. Irremediably. Secretly, he believed every person in the Temple had been in love with Obi-Wan Kenobi at least once in their life.

He had known he was going to get rejected beforehand, but still, he had confessed his love. Obi-Wan had been very kind, and that had made it hurt even more. It had taken Quinlan two years to fall in love again, the day Mace had smiled at him.  
   
-o-  
   
 _1 is the number of times Mace has said ‘I love you’._  
   
It seems so little, doesn’t it? Specially compared to the 2160 times Quinlan has said it (one for each day they had been together.). But Mace had meant it, and that was all Quinlan cared about.  
   
-o-  
   
 _84 are the number of people he has killed._  
   
The first time he killed a person, it didn’t affect him all that much. Quinlan had thought it would be harder, like a punch to his stomach, something that would leave him out of breath. Funny, how he had done it in an almost distracted way, and hadn’t felt a surge of regret.

It had gotten harder with the years. The older he got, the more he matured, the more conscious he got, the more meaningful the deaths became. They became a heavy weight on his shoulders.

He had told Mace once, the way he felt, how much remorse consumed him even when every death had been meant to happen, when every death had saved so many lives. Mace had just held him, and for a while, everything had been ok.  
   
-o-  
   
 _5 are the number of seconds it took him to fall in love with Aayla._  
   
She had been a tiny little thing, all blue skin, looking at him with big amazed eyes. Quinlan had pointed had her, and had said ‘I want that one’. One of the masters of the crèche had glared at him, telling him that you just don’t pick a padawan as you would a melon in the market. Still, as he had been guided out the door, his eyes had stayed connected with the little girl’s.

A few years later, Aayla Secura had become his apprentice.  
   
-o-  
   
 _3 is the number of hours Obi-Wan cried on his shoulder when Qui-Gon died._  
   
And he had felt miserable every single second of them.  
   
-o-  
   
 _4 are the number of big fights he has had with Mace._  
   
The first two were over a recurrent theme between the two of them: Quinlan being too careless. Which, of course, was actually quite true. When he was in a battlefield, he fought, and that was all he cared about. If his hands got scratched, his chest wounded, or his legs hurt, he didn’t care; it was just how it was supposed to be. But apparently, Mace did care, and that had leaded to a lot of screaming, until Mace had decided that screaming at Quinlan because he cared for him was something utterly stupid.

The third one was over that one time Quinlan had kissed Mace in front of a large crowd. Mace just couldn’t handle such spectacles, and he had told Quinlan so in the form of shrieking screams and sharp insults. Mace hadn’t spoken to him for two full weeks, which Quinlan had spent devouring Obi-Wan’s stack of chocolate ice-cream, and complaining about him not buying a different flavour (firmly supported by Anakin). Mace had finally come to his senses, apologizing for overreacting, but still asking Quinlan to keep their affair private, just for them. Quinlan had done so.

The fourth one, the one that had almost broken them apart, had been about nothing, and about everything. There hadn’t been screaming, only a quiet resolution that had become pain all too suddenly. It had been solved the day Mace had said ‘I love you’.  
   
-o-  
   
 _28 are the number of scars on his body._

One less than Mace, one more than Obi-Wan, and four more than Anakin.

Obi-Wan’s he had counted over the years, without him noticing. Shared tents, muddy battles, tiny space shifts… well, there had been a lot of opportunities to count, and there was no harm in just looking, right?

Anakin’s he hadn’t counted, but he trusted that the kid was telling the truth. They had a contest going on, and so far Quinlan was the winner. Although he had the feeling he wouldn’t be for a very long time, what with the tendency the boy had of getting in trouble.

Mace’s he had counted with his eyes, with his hands, with his tongue, once with his toes, even. He liked to do it, while Mace told him some of the stories behind them in a husky tone, making him tremble with the feeling of intimacy between them.  
   
-o-  
   
 _2 are the number of times Quinlan has worn a dress._  
   
The first time it was just a prank, and it was totally worth it just to see Obi-Wan’s face.

The second one… well, who didn’t like being received by a French maid at home? Apparently Mace didn’t, but once he had gotten out of the costume, things had gone just fine.  
   
-o-  
   
 _293 are the number of eyelashes on Mace’s left eye._  
   
And that’s probably the most important number Quinlan has ever learned.  
   
***  
   
“I got a new scar!” exclaimed Anakin, showing him his right arm. A proud small scar forming half a circle stood close to the underside of his wrist. “I got it a few weeks ago, I had almost forgotten.”

Quinlan clutched his arm, studying the mark before letting him go. “But I got the one in my leg, so I still win for four.”

Anakin pouted prettily, and Quinlan smirked, satisfied. “You know?” started Anakin, after a short pause. “I tried to count Obi-Wan’s eyelashes once, but I only reached 53, because he woke up.”

Quinlan smiled widely, searching for Anakin’s eyes with his own. “Maybe you should try again,” he said, ignoring the soft blush in the younger man’s cheeks.

“What would be the point? It’s not like he cares.”

“Oh, the ones like Mace and Obi-Wan, the ones who play hard to get,” explained Quinlan, “those are always the most sensitive ones. They also tend to be the most oblivious ones, though, which means you’ll have to start thinking of patience as a virtue.” Anakin huffed, and Quinlan put his finger to his nose and poked softly. “Trust me, it’s worth it.”


End file.
